Masks
by Archaeologist
Summary: Merlin was still miffed about Arthur leaving him at the Cauldron of Arianrhod with the Dolma. After "With All My Heart", Episode 05.09


**Pairing/s:** none  
 **Character/s:** Arthur, Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Author's Notes:** So many thanks to my ever-suffering, ever-wonderful beta, camelittle, who is wonderful. (Yes, I know I said that twice but she is!). Written for trope bingo with the trope - disguises/masks  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; It and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

He was still miffed. Arthur had left him at the lake, had completely forgotten about him, the dollophead. Truth be told, it made him both depressed and a bit furious at how little Arthur thought of him. A worthless servant, good only for fetching and carrying and being the butt of his jokes. After all he'd done for the supercilious, fat-headed clotpoll.

He wanted nothing more to do than to march down to Arthur's chambers, and give him a piece of his mind, and maybe throw a few large fireballs at him while he was there. A sword or two and that axe that Merlin had had to polish the day before. Not that he'd want to hurt the royal arse but he needed to get some of the anger out of his system before he did something rash.

Instead, he moped about his room, flicking magical sparks up at the ceiling, and tried not to take it too hard.

But he did. Take it hard. How could he not?

Arthur had forgotten about him, would have left him behind if Merlin hadn't spoken up. Probably wouldn't have even noticed otherwise until he needed his boots polished or the stables needed mucking out and then, only then, would he have wondered where Merlin was. The complete arse.

Great. Now he couldn't even think up new insults. Wonderful.

So instead, he tried to calm down and think about what he had to do next—besides not want to punch the pompous, stuck-up git right in his stupid royal face.

He'd had enough of cleaning for one day so that was out. Maybe just lie on his bed and feel sorry for himself.

Then he looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor, the raggedy skirt, tatty shawl and scruffy blouse that he'd had to wear as the Dolma. He'd thought to dispose of them before returning home, but with everything that had happened he'd just forgotten.

With a sigh, he grabbed them, thinking to hide them until later, but then instead he pulled the shawl around his face, pretending a little.

If everything hadn't turned into such a mess, Merlin would have admitted that playing a woman had been a bit of fun.

It was serious magic, too.

Turning into an old man who was just Merlin aged up was one thing; that was a simple spell. A sorceress with womanly bits was something else because he had to change the very nature of who he was.

He knew how to act as a man, but as the Dolma, he hadn't known what to do with his hands or how to move. And then out of the blue, by the lake, he'd been almost flirting with Arthur. It was embarrassing and a little exciting, at least until he realised that Arthur had forgotten all about him when they all turned to leave.

Clotpoll.

So yeah, magic might be just the trick to calm him down.

Knowing that Arthur would not be looking for him—after all he'd given him the afternoon off although that had happened only after the Dolma let him have it for being such a pickle-headed dolt— he thought to practice changing again.

With that, he put on the ugly black skirt and the ragged blouse, and then whispering the spell, he could feel himself morph into a woman. Hips wider, breasts hanging down, and as he shifted, his hips canted just so, like a real girl's would.

It felt as odd as it had last time. Gazing into the mirror, pursing his lips, batting his eyes like some of the girls down in the lower town, he wiggled a bit. He looked ridiculous but it made him smile, too.

It was just a bit of fun.

With that, he traipsed around the room, getting his long skirt caught on all the stupid angles of the junk he'd accumulated, wondering how women could stand it, swirling it all back and forth in some kind of mad dance.

Twirling and turning and then he caught his reflection in the small mirror. He looked almost like himself, well except for the long grey hair and the wrinkles. No wonder Arthur kept saying he looked familiar. He'd have to be more careful in future. But for now, he could just dance and scamper around and act silly for a change, pretending to be the girl Arthur always claimed he was. A perfect disguise.

With that, he grinned, and went back to swirling his skirts and humming off-key, a little dancing ditty he'd learned at the tavern.

So of course at first he didn't notice the prat standing in the doorway, sword pointed at Merlin's heart.

Damn.

He stopped humming, pretty much stopped everything he was doing and just stood there, waiting for Arthur to do something rash: throw him in the dungeons maybe, or poke him with that sword of his.

"What are you doing in Merlin's room?" Arthur held the blade steady, scowling at him. "Where is he? If you have hurt him in any way—"

So Arthur didn't recognize him. The spell was holding, a flawless mask to disguise who he really was.

It was perfect, then. It gave him the opportunity to tell Arthur off.

Because he needed to, he really did.

Waving his hand as he'd seen the tavern girls do, pitching his voice higher with a little simper thrown in for good measure, he said, "Why do you care?"

As Arthur sputtered, Merlin gave him a lascivious grin, then canted his hip just a bit, and slowly drew one hand down his long grey hair. He batted his eyelashes for good measure. "I just thought I'd pay the handsome boy a visit. See if he was up to some comforting…." He thrust his chest forward and did an unsubtle roll of his hips. "After the way you treated him."

Merlin thought Arthur was going to go apoplectic. His face turned a fiery red and his eyes were bugging out at the idea.

Stepping closer, Arthur waved his sword around a bit. "He's not your plaything. I won't have you drawing him into some kind of…. magical tryst that would just confuse him."

He looked horrified at the very thought. Merlin wasn't sure if it was because the Dolma was so much older than him, or that Arthur didn't see Merlin having a relationship with _any_ woman.

"He may be a crap servant, but he's my crap servant and you keep your hands off him."

It warmed Merlin a little that he was so adamant but it annoyed him, too. He'd given up so much for Arthur and now he couldn't even have a relationship, however brief, even with an old woman. And he'd been insulted again.

Much as he wanted to punch the git, instead as he tilted his head, fluttering his eyelashes, he gave Arthur another little seductive smile. "So he can't have a little fun? I wouldn't damage him… much."

"No, absolutely not." Arthur's frown was bone deep. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin gave up baiting him. Instead, tossing his head back, pushing the grey hair out of his face, he straightened, put his fists onto his hips, and with eyes narrowing, he scowled back at Arthur.

"The encounter by the Cauldron of Arianrhod was… instructive," he said, slowly, carefully, as if talking to a very young, very naughty child. "I've heard rumours before, of your treatment of him, of how you throw things at him, call him ridiculous names, and treat him like dirt but I hadn't believed it until I saw it with my own eyes. He would do better elsewhere."

Arthur gave a little bark of amusement, one of those nervous laughs that came out of his mouth whenever he was worried and trying not to show it. "He is my servant."

"But at the lake, you forgot about the boy until I reminded you of him, and when I did, you insulted him. And you did so again, just now." Spreading his arms wide a moment, and then playing with his hair again, another swaying of his hips for emphasis, Merlin said, "Since you value him so little, I could take him off your hands."

"You can't have him."

The sword was up again and pointing at Merlin's heart. But he just looked at Arthur, rolling his eyes at the absurdity of it all. "But it was you who threw him away."

Apparently the git was unhappy to have people remind him of what a prat he was. The scowl on his face deepened, a thunderstorm of upset. "I did not. I was distracted by your magic. He means more to me than you can ever understand."

That was surprising that Arthur would admit it, even to himself, but Merlin was on a roll. He wasn't about to let Arthur get away with it. Not now.

Merlin gave up playing with his hair, scowled right back at Arthur. "But he doesn't know that, does he? Because all you do is abuse him, tell him he is an idiot and ignore all of the things he'd done for you."

Arthur was gaping at him, sword forgotten in his hand. "It's my way of…."

Merlin cut him off. He was tired of excuses.

"Of what? Telling him he isn't important to you? That you could replace him with a single word? That you've sacked him so many times he doesn't know what to think? No wonder he was disappointed when I told him what you had done."

"It isn't like that." Arthur's voice hardened, became defensive. "He must know how much I value him. Why else would I keep him close?"

"To use him as a fool?" Merlin stepped closer, glaring at the git. "To mock his every move for your amusement?"

Looking like he was going to explode at any moment, Arthur said, "No, you old bat. I mock him because he mocks me back!"

That was not what Merlin had expected. Blinking at him, trying to fathom out whether Arthur was serious or not, Merlin said, "That's…ridiculous."

"Is it?" Arthur looked like he'd finally scored a point in whatever game he was playing. His face seemed to soften a little, too, but he wasn't finished yet. "He's brave enough to argue with me. To tell me off when I need it. I have too many others vying for favours or advantage. But not Merlin. He sees me as I am."

That… that was surprising. He knew Arthur was surrounded by those who wanted to use him to gain money or power, but Merlin thought that no matter what he'd done for Arthur, the prat hadn't even noticed—especially lately with Gwen and Morgana and all of his other problems. He'd just seemed endlessly annoyed with Merlin, and even furious at times when he'd only tried to be helpful.

Pitching his voice a little higher, shaking his head and letting the grey hair swish a bit around his face a bit to emphasise how much the Dolma didn't believe it, Merlin said, "Then why… if you need him that much, why can't you be nicer to him? Why can't you tell him how much he means to you?"

"Because every time I try, he looks at me as though I could hang the sun and the moon in the sky, that I can do no wrong." He looked away a moment, muttering, "But it's not true."

Merlin couldn't believe it. It seemed incredible that Arthur would feel that way. Yes, Merlin did overdo it at times, tell him things to bolster his ego when he needed to. Still, Arthur was a great man and worthy of his devotion.

"But…."

He must have looked gob-smacked because Arthur didn't try and make excuses like he normally would have whenever feelings were involved. Instead he said, "I'm not the legendary king Merlin thinks I am, and if I have to insult him once in a while to remind him of it, then so be it."

"Oh."

That actually made sense. Not that Merlin appreciated it much as he was the one at the end of all those insults, but his heart was soaring. Arthur wanted him around. For so long, he'd thought that he'd just been in the way, that destiny had brought them together whether he wanted it or not, and yet now, now Merlin knew that Arthur needed him after all.

"Yeah, oh." Arthur seemed almost amused at his reaction but then his face hardened. "So for the last time, what are you doing here?"

He'd overstayed his welcome but getting out might be a problem. But then Arthur was pretty chivalrous when it came to women, even old sorceresses. Plus when the Dolma had flirted with Arthur down by the lake, Arthur had seemed almost confused by it all. And in this instance, confusion was good.

Putting on an indecent smile, he fluttered his eyelashes at Arthur, gave another obvious hip roll, and then drew some grey hair across his face and into his mouth a moment for effect. As he wiggled a little closer, he said, very softly, very heatedly, "Since Merlin isn't here, perhaps we could… get to know each other better. You are almost as pretty as he is."

Arthur looked like he was going to vomit at any moment. "You can't be serious."

"I'm always serious about…" He smoothed his hands down his hips, then his eyes lowering and raising again as they followed the lines of Arthur's body, he smiled. "…Things."

That appeared to be enough for Arthur. He sputtered a bit, jerked back as Merlin reached out to him, trying to avoid Merlin's fingertips as he did so. As he turned away, Merlin sent out a pulse of magic, dragging some laundry across the floor, and as Arthur stumbled into it and down onto the pile of dirty clothes, Merlin made a beeline for the door.

As he raced across the room, snatching up the antidote as he did so, he didn't dare look back. He could hear Arthur's boots slapping against the stone floor, and behind him, he heard, "Stop!"

By then, Merlin was out the door, slamming it behind him. Running down the corridor and into the alcove to change, he knew he only had a few seconds before Arthur arrived. A quick gulp of the antidote, all the while pulling the stupid Dolma outfit off as quickly as he could, he still had the clothing in his arms when Arthur showed up.

Arthur looked furious and not a little disconcerted. "Where did she go?" When Merlin just shrugged, gazing at Arthur as if he were the demented one, Arthur said, "What kind of idiot… well, at least she didn't steal you away." He glanced around a bit, obviously trying to see if the Dolma was hiding somewhere, certainly put out by it all. But when he looked back at Merlin, he frowned down at what he was carrying. "Where did you get those?"

"By the door. Old rags." Trying not to look guilty, he said, "I thought I could use them for cleaning."

Arthur was still furious. Shaking his head, scowling at Merlin, he said, "You sure you didn't see the Dolma go by?" When Merlin just stood there blinking at him, Arthur's frown deepened, his eyes narrowing. "You have been to the tavern again, haven't you?"

Why was it always the tavern?

With all the indignation he could muster, Merlin said, "No, I have _not_ been to the tavern. I've been too busy cleaning up after you. Even on my day off, I don't get any time to myself and if I didn't…."

Arthur wasn't having any of it. "How could you have missed her? She had to go right past you. Old woman, wearing the rags you are carrying." Speaking slowly, his voice dripping with annoyance, Arthur said, "It was the Dolma. The one who tried to steal you away at the lake."

Feigning ignorance as if he were trying and failing to place the woman, Merlin finally nodded "That old sorceress from the Cauldron of Arianrhod?" When Arthur just closed his eyes a moment in disgust, he tried not to laugh. Instead, he shrugged again. "She's a batty old thing but I'm sure she's harmless. What did she want?"

"You apparently. For some kind of romantic assignation."

Arthur watched his reaction, clearly hoping to see some sign of repugnance on Merlin's part. But instead, Merlin gave him a brilliant smile, looking as pleased as punch about the prospect.

Sputtering, Arthur couldn't let it rest there. "Don't look so smug. She's clearly delusional. As if anyone would want to be romantic with you. When you weren't there, she turned on me and… it was revolting." Merlin tried not to laugh at Arthur's horrified face but it was a near thing. "I'll send some guards to see if she's still in the citadel."

Turning to go, a moment later, he stopped and looked back at Merlin. There was a scowl on Arthur's face but underneath it all, there seemed to be trepidation. "Merlin, before I go, a word."

Merlin nodded back toward the way they'd come. Arthur turned and they walked back to Gaius's chambers, silence between them.

Inside, Arthur stared down at his boots a moment, looking as if he were gathering courage, as unsure as Merlin had seen him in quite some time. When he did look up, Arthur didn't say anything. He just stood there, gazing at Merlin for a long time.

In a way, it was almost unnerving.

Merlin only hoped that he hadn't figured out about the Dolma and his magic. He wasn't ready for that kind of conversation, especially not while Arthur was wearing his sword. It could get very pointed.

Finally, Arthur said, "The Dolma told me a few things, and while she obviously has mental issues, not unlike yourself, she did say something to me that made sense."

"Arthur, it's okay. I know you've been under a lot of pressure and…." As Arthur held up one hand, Merlin stumbled to a stop.

"I haven't always been kind to you, and if I've been less than appreciative lately, it has been rather hectic around here." As Merlin opened his mouth to interrupt again, Arthur only shook his head. "That is no excuse for how I've treated you. I hope you know how much you mean to me, how necessary, I… it's not that I don't… you do understand, don't you?"

He looked so earnest, so unsure of himself that Merlin wanted to hug him. But caught up in the moment, glad that Arthur was finally, finally admitting that he cared for Merlin, still it took him a while before he could say, "I think so."

A long drawn-out sigh, disappointment in the sound, and then Arthur closed the distance between them, putting both hands on Merlin's shoulders, and shaking him just a little.

"Merlin, I know I told you once that we couldn't be friends, that princes and servants could never be… but I was wrong. And I hope that… oh, don't look at me like that."

As Arthur was talking, Merlin's throat began to close up and he was trying hard to blink back tears. It's something he'd wanted for so long, this acknowledgement. That Arthur saying it to his face, and not behind his back to some old woman, was almost too much; he'd thought he'd never hear it before today and the man he loved most in the world was telling him, in so many words, that he loved him, too.

Abruptly, Arthur let him go. Frowning, looking a little suspicious and as wary as a startled stoat, he said, "You're not going to cry, are you?"

Knowing how uneasy Arthur was with emotion, Merlin knew he'd have to lighten it up a bit or else he'd scare him away. Clearing his throat, he gave Arthur a disbelieving look.

"No, Arthur, I don't cry over prats being fat-headed arses." Arthur gave a little snort, rolling his eyes a bit as Merlin grinned and then smiled himself. But he let go when Merlin said, "But friends can have a good cry together, can't they?"

Arthur backed up, hands raised. "No, Merlin, absolutely not. No crying. No."

Trying to look pathetic, Merlin said, "A hug then?"

For a moment, Merlin thought he'd pushed it too far. Arthur was into battle mode, sizing him up, maybe thinking of ways of getting out of the situation before it was too late.

Then Arthur gave in. "You are never going to let me live this down, are you?" When Merlin shook his head and grinned, Arthur sighed, a long drawn-out affair with the sounds of defeat laced with retribution if lines were ever crossed. "Fine, one hug and then we will never talk about this again."

Merlin dove into it, clinging to Arthur for all he was worth. It felt good, it felt right, it felt as if he was protected and loved, and most of all, valued.

It wasn't long enough, but at last Arthur's back grew rigid and Merlin could feel him trying to pull away. He gave him one last squeeze, and then let him go.

Merlin's face was hurting from the delighted smile he'd held all that time. Arthur seemed to be unhappy about the whole thing, but there was a brightness to his eyes that hadn't been there before.

The world felt lighter, too.

Not one to let emotion linger, Arthur said, "Well, good, then. Fine. No need to talk about it." He started walking slowly backward as if trying to escape before Merlin demanded another hug. "I will see you at first light tomorrow. Bright and early. We are going hunting. And don't be late."

"When am I ever?" Merlin pretended astonishment, but the grin threatened to come back.

Arthur gave a little huff of annoyance. "When are you not?"

"Prat."

"Idiot."

And with that, Arthur gave a laugh. Muttering about finding the Dolma and giving her a piece of his mind, he swept out the door.

For a moment, Merlin just stood there. The day had started so horribly, and now it had completely turned around.

Over on the table, the Dolma's ragged clothes lay, midnight-black. They'd helped him gain something so very precious that he couldn't help himself; he grabbed the heavy skirt and whirled around, feeling the weight of the black cloth against his legs, twirling and humming and feeling as light as air.

So often Merlin had had to wear a mask that it seemed almost as if he weren't real any more, that the façades were all he had left: Dragoon the Great, the Dolma, Emrys, the smiling servant, the fool. Never just Merlin. Sometimes it was so lonely juggling them all that he couldn't breathe from the bone-crushing weight of it.

Now Arthur saw beneath all that, saw him as a friend, someone to love and rely upon. Saw him as just Merlin.

Tomorrow he would have to put the masks back on, become the bumbling servant again, the fool, Emrys.

But for now, for today, for one shining moment, Merlin was free.


End file.
